


With Love, Jealousy.

by uncreativerabbit



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/F, Jealousy, KE Week 2020, Masturbation, PWP, Smut, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:12:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26351713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncreativerabbit/pseuds/uncreativerabbit
Summary: KE Week: Canon Divergence/JealousySet after 2x04. Eve receives Villanelle's postcard and fun ensues, until she realises that perhaps she is not alone at home after all.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 7
Kudos: 175





	With Love, Jealousy.

She was alone on the sofa drinking red wine. Eve knew her marriage was nothing more than tatters right now. Niko had sent her a short text saying that he would be back late, not even an excuse this time apart from “work.” Eve knew he was probably bending Gemma over the staff room table but she could not bring herself to care.

Instead, she was sulking, seething. She should be flouncing around the streets of Amsterdam investigating a man strung up in a brothel window and slaughtered like a pig, by a pig - supposedly. She absolutely knew it was Villanelle, her kills were so flamboyant and full of flair. This was clearly a display, but Eve could not quite figure out what the display was. Was this her telling the world that she had cheated death and won? That she was back on the centre stage with or without The Twelve.

Or was she jealous of the Ghost? This new assassin seemed to be flavour of the month and she knew that Villanelle would despise that. Eve took another sip of her wine and grinned to herself. She needed to see Villanelle, needed to see her alive with her own two eyes. Eve definitely knew she was alive, she had announced it with a lovely message that made her beam every time she thought of the tinny recording on Carolyn’s phone that she would not let Eve have.

_ Eve Polastri, you piece of shit! _

She would take the pet name, at least she knew how Villanelle felt towards her about the stabbing. Eve did try to focus her mind off Villanelle sometimes, by watching television or reading or preparing some notes on The Ghost but she knew today the effort was in vain. She was allowed a self-indulgent day here and there, she was under a lot of pressure from work and from her home life and Villanelle was the only thing well worth focusing on apart from a little boredom flirting with Hugo, the new Oxford or Cambridge (Eve did not care, really, all she knew was that he was posh and annoying) recruit who definitely had a thing for older women.

Although, even she admitted these days of indulgence came too often with Niko’s distance. Eve downed her wine and prepared to pour another glass but was interrupted by the sound of the letterbox flicking open and closed. She grumbled and stood up, swaying towards the door to see who was knocking.

Eve was stunned to see a postcard on the doormat. She crouched down to pick it up and looked at the image on the front of it. It was a peculiar artwork of two men skinned and hung upside down from a ladder. It repulsed her and she vocalised a noise of disgust, quickly flipping the postcard over to see who would send her such a grotesque image. When she saw the message, scrawled in loopy handwriting, she gasped, a hand coming to her mouth in surprise.

_ Darling Eve, I hope you haven’t forgotten about me!! _

She was definitely singing a different tune to mere days ago, when she left her first message to Eve. She absolutely knew that it should not have, but it made her ecstatic. She stood up and raced to her study to research the image on the front of the postcard, holding it to her chest, almost dancing her way there. Sinking into her chair, she googled a few terms to find the image, but a clumsy ‘old painting of men hanging from a ladder dead’ pulled up the image and the name of the painting she was looking for.

_ The Corpses of the Brothers De Witt, Jan De Baen, circa 1675. _

It was almost identical to the murder that Villanelle had performed. Eve was smug, she wanted to text Carolyn and tell her that  _ see, I managed to figure out more than Jess and I didn’t even go _ and that  _ she knew Villanelle better than anyone. _ As she reached for her phone, she hesitated. Carolyn would most likely take the postcard from her and then all of her correspondence from Villanelle apart from her knife-disguised-lipstick would be gone. Villanelle was murdering people almost for her, it seemed, or at least leaving her little clues that she knew would mean something to Eve.

An apple. A toilet brush. Lipstick. And now, a postcard. She closed her eyes and tried to picture Villanelle writing it. Was it one night when she was bored in a hotel room, or even at the scene of the murder? Or did she write it on her day off, in a cafe with a latte and a piece of cake.

An overwhelming urge overtook Eve and she raised the postcard to her face, closing her eyes, breathing in. She could even smell a faint, lingering scent of woodiness and musk and she was sure it was one of Villanelle’s expensive scents. She breathed in again, inhaling the scent. It was as if she was in the room with her, she could hear her voice calling her name in her ear. She thought back to that time in Paris, her on the bed, Villanelle’s hand on her cheek, thumb tracing patterns. If she had said yes to her, what would have happened? All she could see at the time was the rage for Bill and her turbulent marriage turning her vision red as she plunged the knife into her. She regretted it as soon as she had done it, four words pulling her out of her vengeful stupor.

_ I really liked you. _

She could feel a familiar buzz between her thighs, one that nobody, not even Niko had made her feel for a very, very long time. The concerns of cheating were all but gone considering he was probably doing it anyway and honestly, Villanelle was the only one showing that she openly cared for and was attracted to Eve and she was beginning to entertain the idea of feeling the same way towards her.

So, simply put in Eve’s mind, fuck it.

Eve made her way into the living room and back onto the sofa. She poured the glass of wine that she was trying to get before she was so rudely interrupted by Villanelle, took a mouthful for liquid courage and slipped off the loungewear shorts she had on underneath Niko’s shirt. Eve considered that it was almost sacrilegious to do something like this over another woman in her husband’s shirt, but she thought about where he was and the small spark of irritation drove her hands in her underwear quicker than the thought that crossed her mind.

She knew what she wanted and what she liked, but in this fantasy, her hands were Villanelle’s, and Villanelle would tease her. Eve started with gentle, light touches and she closed her eyes and a shuddery breath escaped her lips. She tried to picture what it would be like to kiss Villanelle, but she could not imagine what it would be like - she needed it to happen. 

Eve abandoned the fantasy to seek out her clit, this was only for her, after all, she needed not to pay attention to what Villanelle would have wanted from her. The actions from her fingers were not delicate, merely a means to an end, and she pressed down hard enough to elicit a moan from her lips. The underwear was in the way now, so she used her other hand to haphazardly tug it off and open her legs to give her the angle to press a finger into her, one first, then two seconds later when one simply was not enough. Her other hand was desperately gripping her breast, postcard falling to the floor and she could imagine what a messy, embarrassing sight it was. 

Her hair was wild against the pillow, eyes half-open, lips parted with moans threatening to spill, shirt bunched in her hand, a small part of her stomach on show. Nude from the waist down, legs open, fingers thrusting in and out of her, a sight to walk in on if anybody came in through the living room door.

Her husband would probably just tell her to get her act together, the only person who wanted her was a few countries away.

“Oh, Villanelle!” She cried out, and there was a crash from the direction of the doors in the kitchen that backed onto the garden. Eve briefly looked up and saw heavy rain, she assumed it was merely thunder and set back to what she was doing, allowing a string of expletives and moans escape, until she said  _ her  _ name again. The banging turned into the sound of...keys? Eve sat up and pulled the sofa throw over herself as she watched a shadow loom over the glass doors.

It was not a key. It was a lockpick.

Eve tipped out the rest of the bottle of wine into the glass, thankfully there was only a little left, before gripping it by the neck as a weapon. She considered her situation for a brief second; naked from the waist down, tipsy, dreaming of a woman when she was already married to a man, propped to fight using a wine bottle. Truly a professional government agent by all means. She watched as the door swung open with a bang, aided by the stormy wind and a lithe, delicate figure stormed in with purpose, marching straight towards the sofa.

Villanelle was wet, was the first thing that Eve noticed. The rain had drenched her, she left droplets as she walked towards Eve. She wondered just how long Villanelle had been out there for, she was soaked through to suggest she had been there for a while. Eve’s thoughts stilled. Villanelle had posted the card through the door, or at least watched as someone else did. She picked up the postcard, and found one worn stamp marked for a few days ago. It would have already reached her.

That was when she noticed the postcard was crumpled. She frowned at it, eyes glancing back at Villanelle with an unreadable expression of emotion on her face. Anger? Passion? Passionate anger? Of course, Villanelle had been watching her. She had seen the sight of Eve with legs splayed, bringing herself to a climax with Villanelle’s name being her choice.

_ Oh. Shit. _

Who was going to start? Eve was scrambling to her feet, wrapping the blanket around her waist with a firm knot as Villanelle stepped forward quickly. Eve noticed smeared makeup and puffy under eyes, simple clues of raw emotion on her face. Had she been crying? Why was Eve suddenly being crushed by an overwhelming desire to hug Villanelle?

“Why didn’t you come to Amsterdam?” Villanelle asked, her voice seemingly shaky. Eve felt very guilty, even though she had been given little choice. Her compromising situation ignored, she moved closer to Villanelle, torn between wanting to give her an explanation and feeling as if she owed Villanelle nothing.

She decided to give in. Slightly.

“I wasn’t allowed.”

“What do you mean?” Villanelle’s response was lightning fast, the frown on her face deepening. Eve expected Villanelle to be teasing her right now, stumbling onto her in this situation would have been like a red flag to a bull to a usual Villanelle and Eve would have let herself be willingly seduced. Instead she had been thrown a Villanelle that was...fragile? Eve could not put her finger on it, but maybe it was her turn to play. She sat back down, disliking the wind lifting her blanket dangerously high. Villanelle stepped forward to stand over her, blocking out the light. How very Villanelle.

“I’ve been moved to a different team tracking a different assassin. The Ghost is the nickname that has been given. She’s quiet, subtle,  _ skilled _ .” Eve watched Villanelle tense at the last word that she put emphasis on. This time she was cutting her deep metaphorically.

“Does she excite you more than me?”

_ No.  _ “She’s interesting.”

“Did you forget about me?”

_ No.  _ “I had other work to focus on.”

“Do you want me?”

_ Yes.  _ “I’m married.”

Eve tried to reach down for her underwear to resume this conversation without her lower half exposed, but snapped her hand back when Villanelle abruptly pushed her heel into the cotton pants, blocking Eve from picking them up. Her expression was dark and intimidating and made Eve swallow, pressing her lips together. She could see Villanelle’s lip tremble and that small quirk gave away the one overpowering emotion plastered all over Villanelle’s face.

It was jealousy. Villanelle was jealous. It almost made Eve smug.

_ Of what? _ Eve wondered.

“Villanelle, I’m aware that this is a bit of an awkward situation. If you would just let me get dressed, we can continue this if you go and wait in the kitchen or something?”

“No.”

“What?”

  
“I said no.”

“Okay.” Eve could not find the words to say anything else. Villanelle was most likely feeling more exposed than she wanted, so she mirrored that by leaving Eve physically exposed. She crossed her legs and could feel the sticky sensation against her thighs. She sighed, closing her eyes, hating that she was still turned on throughout this. Turned on by the thought of Villanelle watching her. She wanted to know what Villanelle had thought when she had stumbled onto that sight.

“What were you doing?” Villanelle said after a beat, her face softening a little. It was still deadpan, but a little less furious.

“I mean, I thought it was obvious…”

“You said my name.” Villanelle cut her off before Eve launched into a selection of excuses.

“I did.” Eve sighed. No point in denying the truth now, Villanelle already looked broken, she did not want her to be angry. She did notice a small smile pull at Villanelle’s lips, however, and averted her gaze, crushing her own desire to return that smile.

Oddly, Villanelle stopped for a moment and remained silent, eyes slightly wide - Eve could guess she did not expect her honesty. Her tense body relaxed as she slumped down next to Eve on the sofa, her face now illuminated by the subtle glow of the television. Drops of water ran down her face but Eve noticed a tinge of red to her cheeks, too.

“Where’s your husband?” Villanelle asked and it drew a bitter chuckle from Eve as she turned to glance out of the window before looking back at her. In this situation, he was far from her thoughts.

“Probably fucking another teacher.”

“The brunette with the big tits, right? She’s a smoker. Gross.”

Eve started and jerked back in confusion. How long had Villanelle been following her, exactly?

“Wait, you know her?” She asked, loudly.

“How do you think I got that lipstick in your bag? I was standing right behind you when the alarm went off. Your husband was a dickhead.”

Eve laughed again which made Villanelle smile. She sat forward and the space between them was minimal. Silence consumed the room again and Eve’s eyes flicked to the television.

“You never answered my question.” Villanelle spoke again.

“You’ve asked me several tonight.”

“You said my name.”

“That’s not a question.”

Villanelle sighed in exasperation. Eve quite liked giving her the run around, she could see why Villanelle enjoyed it so much with her. It was satisfying to tease and not to give it up as easily, but she knew the inevitable, she was just trying to delay it.

“I’ll rephrase it, then. Why?”

“I’m an adult, Villanelle. One who had a particularly bad day at work. I’m allowed a little self indulgent from time to ti-“

“Why my name?” Villanelle was looking at Eve intently, eyes focused, almost as if she was her target. If there was not a softness to her face and the already outstretched hand hesitating to touch her shoulder, Eve would easily assume that she would be one of Villanelle’s next victims.

She felt a sting in her eyes and Villanelle began to blur in her vision. Their dynamic of teasing had dissolved within a second and Eve was left confused at why she was feeling quite so open, so bruised.

Well, she knew the reason, it was if she had the confidence to voice it to her.

“Because at the moment I think you’re the only one who cares about me.” Eve said through a shuddery voice. She sobbed, once, a tear trailing down her cheek before Villanelle took her shoulder, roughly and jerked her forward to join their lips together. Eve met her with a similar passion.

It became heated rapidly as Villanelle explored Eve’s mouth, making her gasp and shudder as Eve tried to pull her closer, the wet clothes making it uncomfortable for Eve to do so. She started tearing at Villanelle’s jacket, letting it fall to the floor and grasped her damp jumper but Villanelle grabbed her wrist.

“Eve, steady.”

“We have to get you out of these clothes, Villanelle, they’re soaked and they’ll make you sick.” Eve spoke with genuine concern. Villanelle scoffed fondly.

“That’s what you’re concerned about?”

Eve stopped and let her hands fall to her lap. In such a passionate moment, she was truly concerned about Villanelle’s health - among other things, of course, she was only human - and now the moment has dissipated for the time being, she laughed at her ridiculousness. Villanelle was also cheerful, she stood up and scooped her jacket and Eve’s clothes up and offered her spare hand out to her. Eve took it tentatively but when she rose, her makeshift blanket skirt fell down and her modesty was gone.

Not that she cared, mind you. She did scold Villanelle who was gawking openly at her.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’ve seen it before.” Eve looked away, trying to loosen her hand from Villanelle’s grip. She heard Villanelle exhale, fingers curling around her wrist.

“Not like this. Look at me, Eve. Don’t be ashamed. I can’t wait to take care of you.”

Eve looked up as Villanelle tugged her hand and led her upstairs, hand-in-hand. Her mind was blank as she followed Villanelle, dragging her feet a little. She cast a glance back to the door and this time she was encouraging, willing Niko to be spending a passionate night with Gemma as she was about to do the same with another woman. Ideally he would not come home tonight. She knew that he probably would.

As they made it to Eve’s bedroom - her marital bedroom - she let go of Villanelle’s hand and reached into the closet for a towel, handing it out to her. Villanelle just rolled her eyes and took it, wiping her hands and letting it fall out of her hand to the floor. Eve raised an eyebrow which Villanelle caught and smirked at her.

“Well, I took the hand that you had been using.” Villanelle explained. Eve’s face suddenly felt burning hot as she took a step back, flustered, stuttering out a barely formed attempt at apology.

“Oh no, oh God I’m so sor-” 

Before she could finish her sentence, Villanelle had taken her hands and slammed her back into the door and kissed her, using Eve’s soft gasp as leverage to deepen their kiss as Eve’s eyes closed and her head lulled to the side. She had Eve pinned by the wrists to the door, her body pressing against Eve’s, the chill from her damp clothes contrasting with the warmth of her tongue, her breath. They broke apart for mere seconds before Villanelle grinned and twisted Eve’s arm to pull her away and push her onto the bed, clambering on top of her before Eve could even think about what to do next. She lifted her head as Villanelle’s body cast a shadow over her.

“Don’t you want to get me out of these wet clothes?” She whispered as she lowered her head next to Eve’s ear. Eve nodded.

Garments pooled next to the bed in scruffy piles as hands roamed over unexplored bodies. Villanelle had seen Eve in various states of undress before, in the kitchen, as she watched Eve enjoy her own company just minutes previous, but getting to see Villanelle stripped down to nothing was a new, intoxicating experience for her. She had realised just how much Villanelle had disguised herself from that first description she had been given of her as her hands cupped the damp skin of Villanelle’s breasts, playing with her nipples as Villanelle kissed her again, deeply, passionately.

Eve’s hand grazed over the raised scar on Villanelle’s hip. She felt Villanelle shift, sitting up, watching her fingers dance over the small, red bump, her present to Villanelle. She admired it with morbid fascination although a slight hint of guilt still bubbled underneath, considering she had almost killed the woman through her reckless, half-hearted action.

“It was a very romantic present. Sometimes I touch it when I think of you.” Villanelle said, resting her own hand over Eve’s. Eve grimaced, but that quickly turned into amusement when she realised what Villanelle meant by it. She had a similar sort of desire.

“I’m sorry.” Eve mumbled, averting her eyes.

“Don’t be. I like it. Look at me.”

“Who would like something like that?”

  
Villanelle kissed her to shut her up.

Eve’s hand slipped beneath, fingers stroking sensitive areas and she felt Villanelle nearly stumble over, her knee knocking her thigh as she steadied herself on the bed and pulled away from Eve. She used one hand to take Eve’s wrist and pulled it away from her, gently and Eve opened her eyes to see Villanelle had hers shut, biting down on her lip, hard.

“Are you all right?” Eve asked, the same infamous words that joined them together the first time, inevitably leading them up to this moment.

“Yes. But this is your night. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Eve whined, disappointed. Unfortunately she could not just text Niko and tell him not to come home that night otherwise it would raise suspicion for the both of them, no matter how much the other would be happy for that text. She pondered the idea of them both in bed with different women but out of the corner of her eye she noticed Villanelle lowering herself down the bed, down Eve’s body until she was nestled comfortably in between Eve’s legs. Eve propped herself up on her knees, she wanted to see exactly what Villanelle was doing.

Villanelle looked up at Eve as she ran her hands up Eve’s thighs, evoking a shudder from Eve who leaned her head back.

“Next time you want to touch yourself to me, remember that I will always do it better.”

_ Arrogant bitch _ was the thought that crossed Eve’s mind for a moment until she felt Villanelle’s tongue between her thighs and she groaned, the sound echoing off the walls in the bedroom. Villanelle could be as arrogant as she wanted as long as she promised never to stop doing exactly what she was doing to Eve right now.

Besides, this meant Villanelle’s mouth was otherwise occupied and limited sassy comments. It was a win-win, as far as Eve was concerned.

Villanelle knew what she was doing. It was a far cry from the heavy handed clumsiness she was used to, a dainty yet ferocious feeling compared to the graze of a mustache. Villanelle quickly sought out the parts that drove Eve wild and had reduced her to a panting mess, unable to hold herself up much further as she slumped down onto the bed, crying out Villanelle’s name.

“Oh!, Ah, Villanelle!” Her hands found Villanelle’s hair, threading her fingers through and pulling. She heard Villanelle let out a growl that sounded almost animalistic and stilled her own fingers, feeling timid. Villanelle continued, swirling her tongue around Eve’s clit as she arched her hips up. She felt nails dig into her hips as they pinned her to the bed. Villanelle definitely liked to be in control of Eve’s pleasure as the pain from the sharp nails was not completely unpleasant, mixing into the waves that crashed over Eve’s body.

Villanelle was responsible for both, and the line between pain and pleasure was becoming dangerously blurred but also very intoxicating. Eve knew she had already fallen deep, this was just the final rung of the ladder leading down.

She felt a finger explore her, circling around her entrance and her breath hitched. Villanelle pressed it against her before pushing it in and that was when she arched her back off the bed, gasping, shouting Villanelle’s name. Eve hoped that her neighbours were out at least, or assuming that they would ignore that the only name they had ever heard her scream was not her husband’s. Villanelle added a second finger, curling them inside her and she began to care a little less, grinding herself down on the fingers, meeting Villanelle halfway. She had been desperate for this attention, equally like Villanelle, and to finally be able to indulge in it was bliss.

  
She was torn between thinking it was perfect, a relief that hit the spot or whether it would just add another layer to their mutual obsession and become an unbearable addiction.

Once Villanelle added a third and found a rhythm, Eve knew that it would be the second option. Her legs were twitching now, she was struggling to keep her breathing, strained cries of Villanelle’s name or expletives cut off by another gasp or pant as an overwhelming feeling began to coil low inside her body. She pressed her thighs together around Villanelle, creating a vice grip against her body, pushing her closer to Eve.

She felt Villanelle laugh against her, at her desperation and it was enough to send her over the edge, her fingers gripping Villanelle’s hair roughly as her climax washed over her, body shuddering through it as she squirmed against the pillows. It took her a little while to regain her energy as she realised that Villanelle was fighting against her strong grip in her hair and she quickly retracted her hands. Villanelle rubbed her head and lay down next to her.

  
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Eve gasped. Villanelle looked at her, bemused.

“Only you would apologise in a situation like this.”

Villanelle gestured for Eve to lift herself up as she placed an arm underneath her, Eve lying back down. With her free hand, she wiped Eve’s stray, messy hairs off her face and kissed her softly, once on the lips and then on the cheek. She drew Eve’s head closer to her, encouraging her to lean her head on Villanelle’s chest. Eve happily obliged, letting her eyes drift closed for a moment.

Until she realised. The whole performance had been rather one sided. She repeated her movement from earlier in the night, letting her hand fall between Villanelle’s thighs once again and felt Villanelle’s chest rise and still against her head, a soft murmur of her name falling from her lips.

“Eve.”

Eve smiled and continued as she lazily played with Villanelle’s clit, enjoying the soft whimpers and moans that she was drawing from her. She could see why Villanelle enjoyed being in control, hearing someone at mercy for her hands was just as satisfying as being touched. She found the energy to get onto her knees, beginning to prop herself over Villanelle’s body, but the jangling of keys held them both still, frozen for a moment.

Eve shook her head and continued, she had gone past the point of caring if her husband walked in on them, but Villanelle grabbed her shoulder and shook her head.

“You go and distract him. I’ll get dressed and get out of here.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Eve’s voice cracked a little. Villanelle leaned up and cupped her cheek, kissing her again.

“I don’t want to go, either. I have to. I promise you this won’t be the last time, though, if you’ll have me again.”

Eve nodded and reluctantly pulled herself off Villanelle as she grabbed the bathrobe off the back of the door.

“Eve? Have you gone to bed?” Niko’s gruff voice shouted up and it irritated her more than usual. The man had no tact, if she had gone to bed - in the way that he meant, anyway - he would have woken her up. She slipped her feet into a pair of slippers and made her way downstairs, leaving Villanelle going through her wardrobe and picking out some clothes, stuffing her own wet ones into a bag.

“No, just coming down now, dear. I was reading.”

As she came downstairs and into the living room, she noticed Niko’s messy, crumpled suit, buttons done up awkwardly and mismatched, leaving one side of his shirt longer than the other. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, twirling him around so that he had his back to the living room door and she could watch Villanelle make her escape.

“How was parents evening? You’re back quite late.” She asked him, dripping fake sweetness into her voice, disguising her irritation with a smile.

“I thought you might have been at work. It was fine, we all went out for some dinner and drinks after. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You must have had fun.” Eve had spied a speck of beige foundation on his collar. She held the fabric between two fingers as Niko looked down on it. He coughed awkwardly as Eve widened her sickly sweet smile. She noticed slow footsteps crouch down the stairs as Villanelle emerged in a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a comfy jumper. Eve’s lips pressed into a line, not at Niko’s obvious adultery - she would be a hypocrite - but that Villanelle was making off with her most comfortable pair of loungewear trousers. Villanelle just winked at her.

“Eve, I-”

“Yes, Niko?” Watching him flounder for an excuse was entertaining and she drew it out, giving Villanelle the chance to disappear out of the front door. Before she did, however, she crouched down and slipped something into Eve’s bag. An envelope. Her curiosity was instantly piqued.

Niko just sighed. Once Eve was sure Villanelle had gone, she let him go and just walked away from him as he mumbled an apology after her. She took her handbag and retreated into her room as Niko went into the kitchen, kicked off his shoes and threw his blazer down and got another beer.

Eve shut the door behind her and sat on the bed, retrieving the envelope and tearing it open. Inside was another postcard with a colosseum graphic, and behind it was a small phone and a significant wedge of cash, more than Eve’s monthly salary. She flipped over the postcard and read the familiar loopy handwriting of Villanelle.

_ Sorry I had to go, baby. Come and get me in Rome and we can pick up from where we left off. V x _

Eve held the postcard to her chest, giddy. She noticed the other one had been tucked under her lamp. She eyed her suitcase on top of the wardrobe and picked up both postcards, placing them into her handbag. There was no hesitation in her decision, there was nothing here left for her. Carolyn was pulling her away, she had no interest in her husband, the only woman she wanted was the one everyone was telling her to leave alone.

Eve was not prepared to do that.

She skipped down the stairs before she realised she needed to be discreet about her happiness. Eve stilled her footsteps, trying to put on a more solemn pace as she hung around in the doorway where Niko was watching the last ten minutes of a black and white film.

“Niko, dear?”

“Eve…” His eyes glimmered with hope at being called dear, and Eve felt a little troubled because she knew she was about to destroy him. Not enough to fight against it, though.

“Will you get my suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a bit behind with KE week stuff, but I've had this sitting for a while. Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I'm uncreativeelle on CC and twitter. :)


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